A special night
by Yiramy
Summary: What's more beautiful than watching the Eifel Tower in Paris at night? Belgium knows the answer. No pairings, just a little family/friends reunion. Oneshot.


Boo self, writing a oneshot instead of working at multi chapter stories. Anyway, I asked a good friend for a colour, the title of a song and a place. She came up with green, "Girl's not grey" and the Eifel Tower. Interesting things I write at night.

xXx

Plane rides were terrible in his opinion. So much time it took. It wasn't just the travel from Ottawa to Paris; you had to check in, check out, retrieve your luggage and hope everything was still in there. And the waiting, man. The waiting was killing him. But here he finally was, in Paris. He'd been inside for so many hours.. a taxi driver had been waiting for him to bring him to his hotel, but he ordered the man to go to the Eiffel Tower instead. On two kilometers distance he thanked the driver, and stepped out. Taking a deep breath from that cool evening air, he glanced at the tower. It was nice at daylight, but it was beautiful at night. He had left his luggage behind in the car and had told the driver to take it to the hotel he would be staying at. Now, only weaponed with a small leather bag and an umbrella - you never knew it in Europe - he took long, slow steps and enjoyed the French atmosphere. It was quiet at this hour, but not quiet enough for the city to be completely silent. There was the man who let out his dog in the park, and there was the teenage girl who was waiting to be picked up by her - probably ten year older - boyfriend, and the couples who were so over romantic to sleep under the stars, hugging each other and paying more attention to each other than the rest of the world. He let out a happy sigh. He loved Paris.

Looking up at the Eiffel Tower, he plopped down on the grass of the Champ de Mars and closed his eyes. This was how a sunday night was supposed to be like. He stretched out and lied down in the grass, several little ants crawling up his arms. His hands went to the leather bag, and even without looking he got some questionable content out of the bag. Five minutes later, he was happily smoking.

"Mattieu?"

It was a very familiar voice. He groaned; he knew the other didn't really like it when he was smoking. Well, smoking on it self wasn't that bad, but whát he was smoking he got frowned upon. He opened an eye and looked straight into the face of France, who disapprovingly stared at the thing he was smoking. "Oh. Hi."

"That's how you greet me? Hi? Matthieu, you are supposed to be good mannered... and what is that you're smoking? Don't tell me it's cannabis." His nose wrinkled; it was disgusting stuff. To be honest, France did enjoy a smoke sometimes, but he wouldn't smoke anything that was not just nicotine.

Matthew chose not to tell him it was cannabis indeed. They both knew it was. The Canadian didn't really make a secret about the fact he enjoyed some soft drugs every now and then. Although it technically was illegal in his homeland, it was tolerated by almost everyone, from the police to the neighbour's cat. He realised it wasn't legal in France, either, but his former caretaker wouldn't take him to the gendarmerie just for a little bit of cannabis. He wasn't smuggling it, after all. And besides, the police office would be closed at this hour anyway.

"How did you get through the safety scan, with those things in your bag?" France asked, still standing and looking down at the young nation. The young nation in question shrugged.

"They know me. Do you ever get checked on your travellings?"

France had to admit he never had to, either, but still frowned when the smell of cannabis got stronger. The Canadian tugged him at his trousers, not taking the effort to stand up. "Come sit in the grass. The Eifel Tower is ten times more beautiful when you have someone to watch it together."

"How high are you already?" the Frenchman wanted to know, before he smiled. It was a nice evening. It couldn't hurt to sit there for a short while. It was difficult to get some alone time with Canada - they both had their government issues and they lived too far away to just visit each other in their spare time. Even with the technologies of the modern era, the airplanes, it still was taking too much time just to hop by for tea.

"What are you doing here at such a time?" Matthew asked on his turn, when the older man sat down in the grass besides him. The man chuckled. "I could ask you the same question. Weren't you supposed to head to your hotel?"

Canada shrugged. "Why spend the evening in a little room with a bed and a wardrobe when you can be outside and enjoy the scenery?" He took a long drag and wanted to blow the smoke into France's face to tease him, but decided not to tease the man any further. He knew how the other thought about drugs. "But you haven't answered my question..." He tilted his head, waiting for a response.

The Frenchman sighed. "Waiting for a lady, if you must know."

"One of your.. you know.. those ladies?"

"Pardon? Of course not! Who ever planted such an idea in your head...it's not just anyone. This is a special lady I'm waiting for."

Matthew just nodded, and closed his eyes again. Whatever. He knew France liked the company of women, but most of the time not sexually. He liked to go out to dinner with them, to visit famous and beautiful places together. Because he was seen with so many different women, there were rumours he was a man who had at least three one night stands in one week. He knew it wasn't true, but he had to admit France didn't really defend his honour whenever his 'perverseness' was the subject of the talk. It almost looked like he liked the attention..

"François!" A woman's voice brought him back to earth. He blinked; this wasn't just any lady France had been talking about. "Margaret?" he asked, voice somewhat unbelievably.

'Margaret' frowned at him and pouted. "You know I don't like it when you call me that, Matthieu. And you've been smoking! You smell like Wim. It's disgusting."

Nevertheless, the Belgian smiled at both men. They both stood up, one being just a bit faster than the other. Kissing first the Frenchman on his cheek, then the Canadian, she took Matthew's drugs away. "You should learn to enjoy other kinds of green than cannabis," she told him. "Plants and flowers are much nicer to look at, and it's not bad for your health." While Matthew wanted to protest and say cannabis actually did wonderful things for your health, and he couldn't die anyway since he was a nation, he remained silent because France invited her over to sit on the grass as well.

"So.. you two have a date?" he asked, feeling a bit awkward.

Marguerite laughed. "No, not like that. The truth is... I always wanted to sleep under the stars with someone special. Willem doesn't want to. He calls it sentimental crap. Allez - " she shrugged her shoulders. "He's not really a romantic person." She and Francis exchanged a look.

"You should join us, Mattieu," France said with a serious face. The Belgian nodded.

"Eh? But the hotel.."

"You invited me to watch the Eifel Tower..It's time for you to see the real beauty of Paris. No objections. You're staying here tonight, with us, to watch the stars." Marguerite winked at the Canadian and pulled out a fleece blanket out of her basket she'd brought with her. After making sure no one would get it cold tonight, they said nothing. It was nice to be there, with family, or almost-family. The world was so peaceful right now.. it didn't take long before all three fell asleep.

The following morning, when Matthew woke up, the Belgian woman was already gone. Rather disappointed because she didn't stay - what was the fun of sneaking out in the morning? - he yawned. Then he noticed the basket beside them. It was filled with French croissants, fresh strawberries, some sugar-topped waffles - they were still warm - a piece of Camembert and a knife, and some oranges. He smiled. She truly wasn't just any woman. Francis was right. She was a special lady. A bit strange, perhaps.. but special nonetheless.

Such a wonderful day this was going to be.

xXx

Gendarmerie - French police station.

Willem/Wim/(William) - my name for the Netherlands. He's named after William of Orange (and those many more William rulers the country has known in the past centuries).

Marguerite/Margaret/(Margreet) - I have this habit of naming Hetalia characters after historical/famous figures. Belgium didn't really have female rulers or female princesses who were born in the country itself.. so I named her after Marguerite Yourcenar, who was born in Brussels. She was a novelist and the first female elected to the Académie Française. She also won the Dutch Erasmis Prize, a Prize for just one European who has done amazing things in culture, society or science.

François - Hetalia can name him Francis, but Francis is English. François is his French equivalent. As Matthieu is for Matthew, but using those two names is far more common in fanfics.


End file.
